


Blackstrap Molasses

by SinNotAlone



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Coercion, Come Eating, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Haircuts, Humiliation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:11:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6669010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinNotAlone/pseuds/SinNotAlone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux enjoys making Ben do things he doesn’t like. Ben might enjoy it too, on some level. A fetish flavored follow-up to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6154198/chapters/14100505">Honeycomb</a>. Everything I touch is Weird, so please, heed the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blackstrap Molasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [betts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Honeycomb](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6154198) by [betts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts). 



> Honeycomb was my entrée into the glorious pile of feces known as Kylux. I actually started reading Honeycomb before I watched The Force Awakens, and because of this reversal of consumption of canon and fanon, I developed a variety of weird headcanon that mapped to [Betts'](http://archiveofourown.org/users/betts/pseuds/betts) AU more strongly than the actual movie. You’ve probably already read Honeycomb, but if you haven’t OMG do it.
> 
> When she okayed other people writing in her verse, I decided to get it out of my system and birth this crap. I wrote a headcanon on [her Tumblr](http://bettydays.tumblr.com/post/142876449052/congrats-on-your-writiversary-fandom-is-a-richer), and it morphed into this. I pretty much just write horrible kink porn, so the overlap between readers who were fans of her AU and people who would actually want to read this fic is probably limited exclusively to me. Maybe this is Too Weird? I don’t know my internal scatological monologue kind of skews my perspective.

A Thursday night, the sun still lingering above the horizon as the days lengthened toward the solstice. The window in the kitchen was open, and a light breeze mingled a vegetal odor with the scent of lightly charred salmon. Hux was a strong believer in the benefits of cross-ventilation and omega-3 fatty acids.

It was idyllic, perhaps disturbingly so. The two of them had fallen into an odd sort of domestic bliss, and both were getting used to how well their jagged edges fit together. Ben was waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him, conditioned by a lifetime of disappointment and abandonment. Hux was waiting for Ben to decide that his bindings were rubbing him a little too raw, but it seemed he had a higher tolerance than initially anticipated.

They were seated at the kitchen table, the meal all but finished. Millie stood on her hind legs, sniffing the air in hopes of locating a mislaid morsel. Hux glared in her direction, but unlike Ben, she was not easily dissuaded. She merped with intention and began a close inspection of the area under Ben’s chair, which typically held promise.

Ben mashed the remnants of his salmon into a pink paste with the back of his fork. It was finals week, and he had been relieving stress in a variety of minorly destructive ways. The salmon simply being the latest victim. Ben’s voice rose as he opined that the narrow religious focus of today’s essays had been “complete bullshit.” The epithet earned him a raised eyebrow of disapproval from Hux.

Ben mumbled, “sorry,” but continued on, “the only decent question was about how rivalry in the Hippodrome reflected larger political issues. Other than that it was all Arianism and Iconoclasm, all the time.” Snoke’s replacement was proving less-than-satisfactory in Ben’s eyes, although Ben’s obsession with dynastic affairs was out of tune with historians trained in the last thirty years.

During this rant, Hux’s long, nimble fingers slowly crept across the table. He began rubbing a soothing thumb over Ben’s exposed forearm, which had grown slightly brown with the warmer days. He recognized the infinite loop of frustration that Ben was entering. At this rate, Ben was going to break his fork if Hux didn’t guide the conversation elsewhere.

"You know, you really have the most beautiful hair," Hux interrupted, admiring the way the dying light reflected hints of amber in the disheveled locks. Ben had spent most of the afternoon nervously toying with his hair as he scribbled furiously into his blue-book.

Ben, finally derailed, wore a look somewhere between confusion and embarrassment at this non sequitur. He still had a difficult time accepting compliments, more so when they were thinly veiled attempts to change the topic.

"When you were younger, did your father ever take you to have it cut short for summer?" Hux ran a tender hand along Ben’s forehead and pushed an errant lock back into place.

"No. Didn't need to. Mom never even let me grow it past my ears," Ben elaborated resentfully.

Hux hummed in response, and continued to stroke Ben’s hair. "I'd like you to have it cut once the school year's over."

Ben shifted in his seat, his fork suddenly regaining its entrancing qualities. He began to carefully level the little pink mountain amidst his plate.

"You can grow it again in September, before the new quarter starts. But until then, I’d like you to stay neat and tidy for me." Hux tried to soften the blow with this concession, as the furrow between Ben’s brows revealed his initial opinion of the topic.

"What did you have in mind?" Ben asked, still avoiding Hux’s gaze. All Ben could think of was the awkward grow-out stage he had faced when he finally left home and was able to wear his hair the way he wanted. He didn't relish the idea of doing it all over again this year.

"I sent you a couple of photos before we sat down to dinner, but I don't want you to feel pressured," Hux left off. It was that same game he always played. He needed Ben to ask for it, to assuage his guilt. Even if Ben didn't know quite what he was asking for.

“Alright,” Ben quietly replied. Hux didn't allow phones at the table.

"I'll be frank with you. You may want to wait until you see what I’m proposing before your sign off on it." Hux stifled the hint of a smirk, and a sense of foreboding began to percolate in Ben’s mind.

Ben spent the last five minutes of their designated dinner time the on-edge. He cleared the table in record time and asked to be excused.

“Yes you may,” was Hux’s standard response. “But I expect to see you in the den at the usual time.”

Ben made a bee-line to the hall closet where he had stowed his book bag when he got home today. He rooted around the side pocket and retrieved his phone. Sure enough, he had a new message from Hux. The text simply read, “Options.” Ben’s hands grew clammy as he waited for the image files to download over the slow mobile connection.

When the first image opened, his stomach dropped. It was a high-and-tight. Back and sides shaved completely, while the top had less than an inch of coverage. It suited the model, with his perfectly shaped head and well-proportioned ears, but Ben had serious doubts about it suiting him.

The second option was not quite so brutal, something like a short ivy league. The top was long enough to show some texture, but not quite long enough to part. It tightened in around the temples and transitioned to skin mid-ear. It was still a drastic departure from the hair that was nearly long enough to brush his shoulders.

Ben reached his fingers up to trace the nape of his neck. He imagined the sensation of Hux touching bare skin there and shivered lightly. His initial response to the options Hux had posed had been absolute refusal. Both were stricter than the short-back-and-sides he had been required to maintain until recently, and he’d hated that cut.

But now, Ben began to think of the other ways that Hux had directed his appearance—the clothes, the grooming products, the request to keep himself clean shaven. He’d appreciated the attention, and even more than that, he’d enjoyed moving ever closer to Hux’s ideal of male beauty.

Ben turned the screen off, pushing the thoughts out of his mind for now. He gathered the relevant notes he needed to review for the final exam and made his way to the den. He let out a sigh of relief when he found it to be empty. Hux knew that Ben needed silent time to study, so he generally lingered in the living room on nights like this, until the appointed time.

Ben, review sheet in hand, began quizzing himself on the significance of dozens of people and events. He paged through lecture notes and consulted indexes to fill in the gaps, his mind focused absolutely on the task at hand. The chiming of the hall clock startled him out of this state of flow. Ben felt his stomach sour slightly as he counted the eleventh tone. When he heard the metallic click of the doorknob being turned he moved to straighten up the deluge of paper that had made its way across the coffee table and onto the floor.

Hux, face enigmatic as ever, strode to his favorite wing-backed chair and waited for Ben to complete arranging the disarray of notebooks, loose sheets, and source material. Ben briefly left the room to return the academic accoutrements to his book bag. When he returned he walked hesitantly to Hux’s chair and sank to his knees beside the seated man’s right hand.

Hux’s countenance softened. He cupped Ben’s cheek with his palm and ran his rough thumb over Ben’s chapped lower lip, dragging at the corner. “So?” his only utterance.

“Why?” was Ben’s response.

“I think you know why.” Hux’s lips tightened slightly.

“I thought... I thought you liked the way I looked.” Ben’s insecurity crept into his voice.

“I do.” The corners of Hux’s eyes reflected this fondness.

“Then why?”

“Because I want you to. Because I know you don’t want to. Because I like to see the conflict in you. The war between your desire to please me and your own wants.” Hux said it as a matter of fact.

“Oh.” Ben shifted his gaze to his knees. He hadn’t been anticipating that degree of honestly.

“And because I know, deep down, you like it when I do this to you.”

Hux felt Ben’s jaw clench and face flush under his palm.

“Look at me when I'm speaking to you Ben.” Hux dug his fingers into the soft skin below Ben’s ear, reorienting his gaze.

“I think you know which option I would prefer.”

“I just... I can’t. I couldn’t deal with the first one.”

Perhaps that had been Hux’s ploy. To show Ben something so undesirable that it made his second option look perfectly reasonable.

“What of the second?”

“If you'd really like me to.”

“I would Ben.”

“I want to be good for you. I do.” Ben's soft brown eyes were earnest.

“I’ll have things arranged. You can go to the shop on the corner of 25th and Union at two o’clock tomorrow.” Hux revealed that he had given this scenario the same degree of thought he applied to everything.

“That soon?”

“You last exam is in 10 hours, is it not?”

Ben nodded. A knot buried somewhere between his stomach and his loins tightened.

“Will you be there?” Ben asked, trying to sound curious rather than needy.

“You know I have work. And I think that would be unwise.”

Ben laid his cheek against Hux’s knee. He rubbed against the fine worsted of Hux’s trousers. The slight scratch was heavenly against his heated flesh.

“I’ll try to leave a little early tomorrow. I expect you waiting for me, here, at five.”

\---------

Ben was a flaming ball of nervous energy going into the exam. He’d added fuel to the fire by consuming several cups of coffee on an empty stomach. By the time Ben made it to the lecture hall, he was pretty sure that his eyes were melting.

His hand cramped as he flew through the series of essay questions, but he pushed on. Ben wasn’t the first student done with the exam, he was too thorough in his answers for that. But with ten minutes to spare, he handed in his blue-book. He had enough time to grab a quick lunch before heading to the designated barber shop.

Ben wished the walk wouldn’t end, but only ten minutes after leaving the student union building, he arrived at his destination. It was a traditional affair. Little striped pole outside and shiny leather chairs within. Ben took a deep breath as he pushed open the door. A little bell jingled as the door swung closed behind him; a quaint sealing of his fate. The shop appeared to be deserted, so Ben stood in the entryway, unsure how to proceed.

A kindly middle aged man made his way toward the front of the shop. The starched smock he wore was oppressive in its whiteness.

Ben swallowed, his throat felt like sandpaper. “I... I think I have an appointment.”

“Ben?”

Ben nodded.

“Name’s Jake. I’ll be taking care of you today. Please, take a seat.” He motioned toward the chair farthest from the windows. Ben was grateful for the slight bit of privacy as he sunk into the commodious seat.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” The barber offered, fastening the cape around Ben’s neck.

“I’m fine thanks,” Ben lied.

“It looks like you haven’t seen the inside of a shop in a while.” The corners of his eyes crinkled as he tried to lighten the mood. “Mr. Hux left some pretty specific instructions when he made the appointment. It’ll be nice to have something shorter for summer, right?”

“Yeah.” Ben didn’t bother to fake enthusiasm.

The barber continued to make painful small talk with Ben while he snipped away the bulk of his hair. Six-inch locks slid down his shoulders to lie beneath the chair, along with a chunk of Ben’s pride. Anger and arousal wrestled for dominance in the back of Ben’s mind as the pile on the floor grew.

When the barber switched from scissors to clippers, Ben’s stomach lurched. He let his chin be pushed down to meet his chest, and felt them run high, higher up the back of his neck. Ben had flashbacks to when he was child as his ears were folded down, allowing clear access to remove the hair at his temples.

The barber meticulously blended the back and sides with the top. Ben had to admit, from what he was able to see it was a well-executed cut, but he couldn’t bear to look too long at his reflection.

When finished, the barber dusted Ben off as best he could. Ben could feel tiny hairs prickling under his t-shirt as he walked to the counter. He reached for his back pocket, but the barber motioned with his hand.

“It’s been taken care of. Your next appointment’s in two weeks, same time. You want a reminder?” He asked, reaching for a card.

“That’s okay,” Ben said, thinking _how could I possibly forget?_

On the bus ride home, Ben struggled to keep his eyes open. The gentle jostling of the vehicle doing its best to lull him to sleep. The caffeine had worn off, and he was crashing. He made it home an hour before Hux was to arrive and curled up on the couch. Wrapping himself in a blanket, his phone resting on his chest. The alarm was set to 4:50, just in case.

Sure enough, an electronic buzzing jolted him awake. It has been a blissfully dreamless slumber, and Ben was not eager to leave the embrace of oblivion. He stretched, then counted to fifty, delaying the inevitable a little longer. Ben knew Hux would be less-than-pleased if he wasn’t ready at the appointed time, so he dragged himself to the bathroom. Splashing water on his face, he kept his eyes carefully averted from the mirror.

Ben felt the vibration of the garage door lifting as he made his way to the den. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, then folded it neatly and placed it on the coffee table. The rest of his clothing followed, and he knelt at the right-hand side of an invisible Hux.

Ben hadn’t bothered to shut the door, so Hux saw him from the hallway. A few quick strides closed the distance. Hux looked every bit the predator stalking its prey.

“Look at you.” A tinge of reverence bordering on disbelief colored Hux’s voice. He made a noise of deep approval and let his fingers drag from Ben’s shoulders to his scalp. Then, he drew Ben to his feet and pressed searing kisses to the nape of his neck. Ben’s skin felt electric at the unfamiliar sensation.

“You need a bath, you’re covered in hair.” Hux brushed at Ben’s shoulders, but his skin was sticky with exhaustion.

They made their way upstairs. Hux rubbed circles against the back of Ben’s hand as he led him to the bathroom. They stopped in front of the counter and Hux grasped Ben’s shoulders, turning him so that he faced the mirror. He wrapped his arms around Ben’s broad chest, stroking his hand against the well-muscled flesh. Pale lips grazed the side of Ben’s neck. Ben eyes were trained at the sink.

“Look at yourself,” Hux directed.

Ben glanced up, blanching.

“Your gorgeous, and mine.” Hux’s breath was hot with lust.

“My ears look ridiculous.” Ben lips flattened into a thin line. A hint of red colored the tips of his prominent ears.

“No, they don’t. They’re endearing.” Hux stroked his finger around the shell of Ben’s right ear, then let it dip lower, fingers trailing down his body.

“Look yourself in the eyes.”

Ben steeled his nerve then followed instructions. He sucked in a breath as Hux’s hand began to stroke his flaccid cock to fullness. Hux was uncharacteristically gentle, alternating between softly squeezing his length and massaging his testicles. Ben relaxed against Hux’s chest and began to thrust to meet the hand engulfing his cock.

“Touch yourself.” It wasn’t a request.

Ben gripped his now swollen member as Hux’s hands moved to pinch and pull at his nipples. His eyes drifted shut and he retreated inward, reveling in the sensation.

“Eyes open,” Hux reminded with a sharp pinch to Ben’s nipple.

Ben was panting, shame burning bright on his cheeks as he wrenched open his eyes. Hux dug his short nails into the tips of Ben’s nipples, leaving the flesh raw and burning. Ben arched into the touch and his hand sped up. A sheen of sweat glistened on his chest, a rivulet running toward his navel. Ben could feel Hux’s stiffness pressed along his leg and ground back against it.

“Close,” Ben gasped.

“What do you need?” Hux reminded.

“Need to come, Daddy. Please,” Ben choked out.

“Do it.”

Ben cupped his left hand over the head of his cock as he sped to a frantic pace. He milked the ejaculate, coming in hot spurts into his palm. Finally slowing, squeezing one last time as he became oversensitive.

“You know what to do.” Hux’s bright eyes narrowed as he stared at Ben, his chin hooked over the taller man's shoulder.

Ben grimaced as the fluid cooled in his hand, but brought it to his mouth nonetheless. Hux grasped the back of Ben neck tightly, his grip a vice, keeping Ben’s focus forward. It took all his strength to keep his eyes open as he licked the bitter, thick fluid from his palm. He stomach clenched with shame at having to meet his own eyes during the act. 

Hux loosened his crushing grip, pulling Ben toward the oversized tub. “About that bath.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for the weird historical digression I included. Coincidentally, my undergraduate degree is in history, and I took several classes on the late-antique Near East because I had a crush of a certain ginger-haired professor of mine.


End file.
